Fabulous Fiji – Part IV (September 30 – October 7)

Malau

We
decided to go with the winds and continued west around Vanua Levu.
The ride from Also Island was wavy and windy, with large
swells that looked like they wanted to jump into the cockpit, but
happily, remained in the ocean. By late afternoon we were anchored
in quiet Blackjack Bay, where we were treated to a pretty
rainbow arching over Freya during our cooling off swim. The lack of
people and wind were both appreciated after a busy and blustery two
weeks. In fact, the evening remained so calm that Bjarne fell asleep
in the cockpit while gazing at the stars. The next morning we
reached Malau and anchored near the shipping docks of the Fiji
Sugar Corporation. From here we would catch a bus into Labasa to
renew our cruising permit, which had about 3 days left before
expiring. In Labasa we ran into some of the same folks I had
traveled with when I went for my dentist appointment. They had
already heard, even though we'd left Also Island just the day before, that we
were considering staying in Fiji and returning to their village.
News travels very quickly via the coconut telegraph.

We took the bus three times, which was two times more than the bus
driver needed to get to know us. On the 1st return trip we
mistakenly rang the stop-bell too soon. The driver disregarded the early
signal and stopped right in front of our dinghy. We figured we couldn't
get off early even if we wanted to. By the third trip when we rang the
bell the driver laughed: we assume that meant, "you silly foreigners
are the only white people on the bus, as if I don't know where to let
you off."

We became a
big hit with some of the security guards from the nearby Fiji Gas
company. I doubt there are many security issues arising in this
quiet area so I guess you take what excitement you can get.
Each time we went ashore or returned to our dinghy we were greeted by
one or two of these fellows. In addition to chatting with us, they
also helped us haul One Night Stand
onto or off of the grassy knoll where we'd leave her (well away from
the rising tide). They also kept an eye on her for us while we were
in town. One guard met us later while we were in Labasa and gave
us his daughter's address in Canada. We also were invited twice to
the home of another guard (Dharmand).

On the morning of our visit with Dharmand, we were picked up
in the company vehicle after his graveyard shift was done (which was
16 hours long at $1/hour). We were dropped off at a long shared
driveway and walked up to the house he built, where his wife, Raj,
and their youngest daughter greeted us warmly. The small house is
on ¼ acre of leased land (Indo-Fijians are not allowed to own
land) and has a nice view over the heads of some of his neighbours,
looking onto a playing field and a large patch of coconut and papaya
trees. The view would command a good price in Canada, although it is
not so rare here. They have a garden for most of their produce, such
as cassava, and grow enough basil to sell it to the neighbours.
There was a large sack of Haldi, which is the bright yellow
stuff that gives curry its colour – quite a bit more than our
100 gram package that will last us for months. We were served very
sweet tea, and then kava (grog). I found the muddy taste to be a
bit much at 10 in the morning. We sat on the floor around a mat
made from polypropylene sacks; judging by some photos of more formal
celebrations, these mats are quite commonly used, and Raj offered to
make one for us. We were then served a large meal of dahl soup, rice
and fish curry for breakfast (we had thought we were just
coming for tea). Raj took it easy on the chilies for us but our noses
were still running. We extricated ourselves from this very welcoming
family so we could get into town to sort out our cruising permit.

That evening we rowed ashore to play cards with Dharmand while
he was on night shift again. I don't think he got any sleep during
the day so our visit probably helped keep him awake. We learned a
card game called 5,3,2. Somehow Bjarne kept winning.

The
next day we were socializing like crazy. Dharmand, his
supervisor, and the supervisor's son came out to Freya
for an early morning visit (they were still on shift but hey, the
boss was along). We served muffins and very bad tea. I used
loose-leaf tea for a change and way over-estimated the amount; it was
so strong it almost tasted like coffee! Aside from that, the visit
seemed a success. From there, we returned to Dharmand's
home and met his other two children. All of the kids were pretty
shy, although the youngest in particular seemed fascinated by us.
Initially, she just sat and stared, and it was fun to try to coax her
into interacting with us. We got to meet lunch when Raj
walked by with a live chicken under her arm. We were told they'd
hoped to serve duck curry but I guess the duck ran faster. The
chicken curry was very tasty. We had mentioned to Dharmand that we'd
thought about going to the cinema to see a Bollywood film. It
turns out he is a big movie fan and his family often watches 3 or 4
DVDs on a Saturday, so he put one of these crazy movies on for us.
The DVD was clearly pirated by the Chintoo Candy Company, as
their logo was plastered on the screen in the bottom corner,
augmented by commercials with chubby kids enjoying candy.
Unfortunately, this film didn't have subtitles and our translator was
not very forthcoming. Dharmand's daughter, when she was in the room,
gave the best summaries of what was going on, but she was busy
helping her mother in the kitchen for a lot of the time. The acting
is so melodramatic that one could still follow a fair amount
even without the translations. The story had an evil villain,
a comic-relief rotten sidekick, a dashing hero, impoverished and
downtrodden people, a love interest, a rescue of said love interest,
singing, dancing, flamboyant costumes, mistaken and secret
identities, sibling rivalry, patricide, a wrongful imprisonment, a
flaming car crash, and, finally, a teary scene of repentance
and forgiveness. Wow. To those raised on Hollywood fare it was
corny and overblown, but these films are really popular. It was a
definite cultural experience.

We had promised two Fijian women
from Malau that they could see the boat so we said our thanks to
Dharmand and Raj, left a few small gifts and caught the bus back to
Freya. On the bus, a woman insisted on giving us her address
and was disappointed that we were leaving the next day. We tidied up
a little and then Bjarne went ashore to pick up our two guests. He
returned with a boat-full: two women and 4 kids, and one of
the women was a different one than we had expected. At one point, we
showed them some photographs of our travels on the computer, down
below in the cabin. It got rather hot and crowded, and felt even
more so when the toddler's noisy babbling became accompanied by the
baby's wailing. We made the mistake of letting one urchin take a
piece of muffin into the cabin. She clutched the slowly
disintegrating treat in each hand, leaving pieces of it all over
– we breathed a sigh of relief when the guests left and peace and
quiet returned to our little home. That was more than enough visiting
for one day.

Daku Village

We
made the relatively short trip (24 miles) to Kia Island with
the wind behind us and the welcome sun high overhead (it had been
rainy lately). We were treated to the sight of a turtle who
stuck around a little longer than usual, probably owing to the quiet
of the canvas engine. As we approached the island, people on
shore started yelling and whistling at us. We hoped they
weren't offended when we continued up the coast to the smallest
village, in the hope (vain, it turns out) that the anchorage would
have less swell. Here at Daku village, a committee of children
greeted us on the beach and brought us up to the chief. Thanks to
some language lessons at Also Island we were able to introduce
ourselves in Fijian and say where we were from, which seemed
appreciated even if we did run out of vocabulary quickly.

We were invited into the Chief's home
and sat on the floor around a large mat, along with with various
villagers. The package of yaqona was placed on the
floor in front of the chief; it is impolite to hand it directly to
him and thus force him to take it. The sevusevu ritual
is meant to request permission of the ancestral spirits for outsiders
to be allowed into the village. Acceptance of it means not only
that we are honoured guests, but that the village now accepts
some responsibility for our welfare. The custom is very old and in
these more remote villages we were traveling in, it is still taken
seriously. In some places where tourists are more prevalent the
ceremony has become less of a sacred thing and more of a way to get
yaqona or entertain the tourists. During the ceremony the
chief spoke for some time in Fijian, with others making verbal
responses and clapping in a measured stately way at certain times. A
very cute baby clearly had no idea what the fuss was about but
delighted in clapping along with the adults nonetheless.
After the sevusevu was
accepted we were left largely unattended, except for some staring
children, while the adults went to pound the kava. We played a
game with the little ones of trying to grab their toes. At first
just the men came in, bearing the large grog bowl. As each man took
his first serving of kava he raised his bilo to us like a
toast and said “bula!” The proper way to drink
grog is to clap once before the bilo (half a coconut
shell) is handed to you, drink the stuff in one go, hand the bowl
back and then clap three times. The clapping shows appreciation.

The women returned after the grog got
going (which they did not partake in) and brought us drinking
coconuts, warm milo (a malty chocolatey drink) and some deep fried
pancakes, which Bjarne noted were a lot like the
“Beaver Tails” or “Elephant Ears” one
can get at a fair but with less sugar. We were asked to tell a
story, so Bjarne told about our bananas getting stuck in the
cockpit drain. Everyone had a good laugh at that. Sometimes it is
hard to know what to talk about so I asked about singing. I was
reminded by the Chief that it was Sunday, so only religious songs
were allowed (oops), which is a pretty limited repertoire for this
pagan. The kids sang a few songs for us and the Chief
suggested that we should come ashore the next day at 1800 for a meke
(traditional dancing). As we left, I was given
a very pretty cowrie shell. We
returned to Freya, so stuffed from the pancakes and all the fluids,
including several rounds of grog, that we felt queasy. The nice pot
of chili I had made earlier was set aside for awhile.

We ended up going into the village two
more times for evening socializing. When we arrived for the planned
meke, expecting a party with
most of the village participating (like in Qarnivai), we learned that
the meke was postponed
until the next day as the women who do the dancing weren't in the
village that evening. We didn't know how long we should stay and
visit with the few adults and many kids. The kids danced for us,
which was great entertainment. Some of those nippers have amazing
moves! They happily devoured the cookies we had brought (the ever
popular Cocoa Quickies.
We were asked again to tell some stories; not coming from a
story-telling culture, this request was quite challenging for us. We
told of some of our travels but our supply of stories certainly
didn't meet the demand. We described some things about Canada, like
how maple syrup is made, and we sang some songs for the kids.
The Grand Old Duke of York was popular, as was the Old Lady
Who Swallowed the Spider. We tried Farewell to Nova Scotia
but, despite practicing, we got the verses mixed up. The Chief said,
as we tried to recall the words, “vinaka, vinaka”,
which means thank you, and in this case, that's enough thanks. The
Hokey Pokey went over better. On the third night,
there were hardly any men around, but the women did a meke
for us. Before they started they stripped the tough
inner core out of the hibiscus branches and wrapped the green, leafy,
husk around their wrists. The Chief played a bamboo drum. We
figured we were getting to be experts now since we recognized some of
the dances from the night before when the kids did them. We joined
in, wiggling our hips and spinning around, much to the
amusement of all involved, including us. Hibiscus leaves lay strewn
around the room by the time the dancing was done. I was given a long
necklace made of small shells, and a short one that wraps around the
wrist to make a bracelet, although it is long enough that I can wear it
as a necklace. We were given a bowl of cornflakes (without milk) for
a snack, and some very nice tea made from lemon leaves, which
are not leaves from a lemon tree.

One morning I went to the school and
offered to talk to their classes if they wanted. Bjarne had had too
much people-time recently so stayed on the boat to do some chores.
At the school I talked to the kids about our trip, showed them some
charts, and told them some things about Canada. They seemed to like
hearing about tobogganing, and how much clothing you have to
wear in the winter time.

On a calm, sunny day, Bjarne and I took
Freya about 3 miles from the anchorage to the outer reef
(Cakau Levu), where we went snorkeling and diving. We
anchored just inside the reef and explored the outside via ONS.
We took turns looking for a good spot – one person drove while
the other peered in the water with mask and snorkel on as we moved
through the warm water. We explored some mini canyons and enjoyed
the colourful hard corals, and the large fish. Some white-tipped
reef sharks didn't pay much attention to us, but a large school of
barracuda circled around us quite closely. Some were as big
as a metre! I wondered why they were so interested, especially when
a little later in the dive they circled us again. Did we look
tasty? When we went snorkeling the next day at a spot close to
the island, the water was full of “sea snot”, as
Bjarne calls it, which are small translucent whitish things looking
like bits of jelly fish. These sea ants sting and the zap
lasts for a few seconds up to a few minutes, although it doesn't
seem to be dangerous. In addition to the sea snot, there were many
jelly fish to dodge (some can be dangerous), so we concluded that
going outside of the reef was worth the trouble.

Kia island apparently has a cannon,
which was brought to the top of a hill many years ago using
counterweights. Four women on the island played a “large”
role in this project. We were told the trail to it was too overgrown
so we opted for a walk along the beach, but found ourselves drawn
inland nonetheless. We had a bit of a start when we came across a
snake. Having no idea if it was poisonous, we went with the
philosophy to let sleeping snakes lie. Later, we went bushwhacking
through chest high (waist high for BJ) grass in our sandals and
hoped that the snake didn't have a lot of relatives. Later, we were
told that, yes indeed, the snake is poisonous. Ignorance is
bliss. We clambered up a steep hill, in the hot sun, occasionally
losing our footing on the spongy turf. At the ridge-top there was a
lovely breeze. We drank down our water, wished we had brought more,
and ate our granola bars. The excellent view of the reef
surrounding the island led us to conclude that navigating would
be a lot easier if we could just figure out how to get that high.
Going down was a lot easier and we soon found ourselves on level
ground, if by level one means lumpy rocks strewn everywhere. We were
hot and thirsty when we arrived back at the village, and were kindly
given some watermelon. At this point, the adventure really
began.

I had said, when asked, that the kids
could come out to visit Freya,
but it turns out that if you invite one Fijian you have invited
the whole village. After a few rounds of ferrying we had 10
adults, including us, and a pile of pre-schoolers on Freya.
Yee haw! Popcorn was a success: I think at least one woman hadn't
had it before, and the little kids all held their shirts out so the
popcorn could be put in the “pouch”. Bjarne had some
success keeping eating-kids out of the cabin, having learned from the
Muffin Masher of Malau.
The men hung out in a group and the women stayed together, while the
kids were up, down and all over. It was a successful and fun visit,
and the women and kids seemed to enjoy riding in the dinghy. By the
time they were all ferried back to shore we had an hour to catch
our breath before the next batch. During this hour some
fishermen went by in a boat, clearly curious about us. I waved them
over, figuring, in for a penny... They stayed only briefly but took
a small amount of our gel coat with them. Drat.

The
next batch of visitors consisted of the kids who had been in school
during the day. They were more active, zipping around the
boat and talking excitedly with each other. They became really
wired when another yacht, the Cookie Cutter,
arrived. Bob Marley and Santana provided
very popular entertainment and the popcorn was quickly eaten up.
Bjarne, upon request, shared out our mangoes, some of which ended up
back on our deck due to a case of sea-sickness. That was a cue to
drag the kids away, although they didn't really want to leave. I
started with a boatload of the younger ones and detoured to The
Cookie. Connie and Peter looked
a little worried as we approached so I took pity on them, and
loudly restated my instructions to the kids that we were NOT
going on the boat. When we got to shore, I was joined by a
man who missed the earlier visit and wanted to see the boat. This
delayed the departure of the next group, and in fact, I had to say
more than once that it was time to go. We had a lot of fun, and
enjoyed the fact that our guests had a really good time. It's not
such a hard thing to provide and gives a lot of pleasure as people
are very curious about the yachts that visit. However, there's no
doubt that we were quite tuckered out by the end of the day.

We were very happy to see our friends
on Cookie Cutter arrive, and not only because they still had
rum left :-) After our tiring day of hiking and hosting, Connie and
Peter provided us with a lovely dinner of fresh yellow-fin tuna, part
of a 50 pound beast that they had recently caught. The next
day we all went together on Freya,
back to the outside of the reef, and spent a good amount of time
snorkeling. I was lucky enough to see a large ray go by, and
to finally see a clown trigger fish. Unfortunately, we don't
have a picture of it, but it was the one fish I said I wanted to see
before we left Fiji. It's black with big white polka dots on
a rounded belly, with bright yellow lips, some less dramatic spots on
the top of it, and yellow and light blue fins near its tail. The day
was topped off with pizza aboard Freya. We had no
pepperoni left (the hardships we endure), and Peter and Connie
still had lots of yellow fin left, so our pizza tasted more like a
big tuna melt with tomato sauce. Surprisingly, it was tasty.
What more could you want - good snorkeling, good food, and good
company!